


The Jobs People Do and the Prices they will Pay

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo doesn't want to be sleeping with the fishes, Computer Hacker!Bilbo, Kind of a humor fic, M/M, Modern Day, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Give us this day day our daily dose of faux affliction. Forgive our sins, forged at the pulpit, with forked tongues selling faux sermons. Cause I am a new wave gospel sharp, and you'll be thy witness. So gentlemen, if you're gonna preach, for God sakes preach with conviction!"<br/>-"I Constantly Thank God for Estaban"<br/>Panic! At The Disco<br/>A Fever You Can't Sweat Out (2005)</p><p>Bilbo is a computer hacker and the mafia leader, Thorin, is in need of his services. He has ways to get him to work.</p><p>Big AU warning.</p><p>Contains Thilbo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So people wanted a happy Mafia!verse fic so here you go. This is way different from my last Mafia fic.
> 
> I wanted Bilbo to be kind of a burglar in this so I made him a pro computer hacker because I can.
> 
> To fit the AU, I've taken artistic liberties on certain scenes from both the book and movie.

Bilbo had the entire Mafia inside the entrance of his house, all of them looking down at him. He looked down at a scared looking Frodo, the poor boy, who was clutching the pants of his leg as if it would somehow save him from the Mafia’s wrath. He bent down, ruffled up Frodo’s dark chocolate colored curls, then whispered to him. “Go to your room, lock your doors, and do not come out until I tell you to.” He kissed his forehead.  
“But Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo said, his blue eyes glistening with tears, “what if they hurt you?”  
“I can handle it.” He pushed the little boy towards the direction of his room. “Now run along little one.”  
“But I don’t want to lose you!” Frodo said. “I lost Mommy and Daddy and I’m not going to lose you too, Uncle Bilbo!” The tears began to fall down his face.  
“You won’t lose me,” Uncle Bilbo said. He wiped away one of Frodo’s tears. “Now run along, please.”  
The urgency in his voice was what got Frodo to scamper away, his bare feet hitting the floor all that Bilbo could hear besides the sound of his own breathing. Once he was in his room, the sound of the click of the lock firmly heard by his ears, did Bilbo let out the breathe he didn’t know he was holding. He stood up, wiped some dust off of his pant leg, and then looked the Mafia leader in the eyes.  
“Hello,” he said. “Sorry for the interruption. Shall we get back to our business?”  
“What a beautiful family reunion,” the leader said with a smirk. The man was tall, with long black hair streaked with grey, and a matching colored beard. His eyes were a cold blue, like the color of the water that surrounded icebergs. He wore all black except for the white fur trimming on his rather heavy looking coat. He laughed. “He can’t be so bad if he has to make a little boy believe him! My nephews would have already been running.”  
Bilbo scowled. “Keep the comments to yourself or I will wipe your bank accounts clean and walk off with billions in my pockets. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. Insulting Frodo won’t get you anywhere.”  
The leader chuckled, then pulled a handgun from the inside of his jacket and held it up to Bilbo’s head. His blue eyes glinted, and he flashed a smile that could rival any creature with fangs. “I can make all the comments that I desire. Do as asked or I’ll blow your head straight to hell.”  
“You wouldn’t.”  
“Go ahead, make my day.” The leader smirked.  
Bilbo chuckled. “If you kill me then you lose all the information that I have.” He pulled a simple flash drive from his pocket, but in it contained hundreds of passwords that he had personally figured out himself. “And you wouldn’t be here if you yourselves didn’t have an advanced hacker of your own, would you?”  
The leader faltered, then turned to the twelve men behind him. “He’s right,” Bilbo heard him whisper.  
“Just see what he wants in return for his services,” one said.  
“Yeah,” added another. “We need a hacker if we want to take down the drake.”  
Their leader sighed in defeat, then turned to Bilbo. He shrugged off his fur jacket, and Bilbo couldn’t tell whether the fur was real or fake, and threw it on the ground as if he owned the place.  
Go ahead, Bilbo thought. Make yourself comfortable and at home.  
“My men are right,” he said. He put his gun away and held up his hands. “What do you want in return for joining us?”  
“Joining you?” Bilbo laughed. “The only boss I have is myself.”  
Their leader clenched his fists, but walked up to Bilbo none the less. He reached out his hand to shake. Bilbo grabbed it. The man’s hold on him was firm.  
“My name,” he said, “is Thorin Oakenshield. You are?”  
“I’m mainly known as Therefore Anonymous,” Bilbo said, referring to his codename, “but I am known also as Bilbo Baggins, uncle of Frodo Baggins, and a simple writer of fiction.” He smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
“I’ll pay big if you join the team,” Thorin said. “We saw what you did to us, and we can’t afford to have you as an enemy. You may be able to access our bank accounts, but we have connections that you could only dream of. Work for us and if you want or need anything it will be yours, no questions asked.”  
“Everyone come in,” Bilbo said, ignoring Thorin. “It would be wrong to leave you stuck in my entrance.”  
There was visible relief when they heard that, and they all walked in.  
“Go to the kitchen,” he said. “Make yourselves at home, but don’t be loud enough to wake my nephew. If you scare him any more than he already is then I’ll rob you without blinking an eye and leave you penniless.”  
The group all seemed visibly frightened, then walked as quietly as they possibly could to the kitchen. Not even a piece of wood creaked under their feet, they were so scared. The looks of terror on their face made Bilbo smirk.  
Once they were gone, he grabbed the leader’s hand and pulled him away.  
“Where are you taking me?” he asked.  
“I want to speak to you in private.”  
“And how will I know that you won’t use that opportunity kill me?”  
“That is certainly a good concern. If I tried anything than your business associates would murder my nephew without flinching. I am not risking his life just so that I can kill you. Besides, I hold nothing against you.”  
They ended up in Bilbo’s room, his bed neatly made, his clothes in his small closet and dresser, and a laptop in the corner of his room on an old oak desk that once belonged to Bilbo’s father.  
Thorin looked at the corner, a confused expression on his face.  
“What did you expect? If I bought loads worth of expensive tech than I’d be discovered quickly, or at least labeled an anti-social computer obsessive. Neither sound favorable. I have other equipment, but it’s so normal that no one would suspect a thing.”  
Thorin nodded. “That makes sense.” He straightened. “So, why are you taking me here in private?”  
“I would like to discuss your offer.”  
Thorin nodded. “I can’t kill you to get you to work for me,” he said, “but I will use force if I have to. Maybe I’ll hold you in a basement for a few days with little food and water. My men could and would beat you if I asked them to.”  
“I’ll delete all my data.”  
“I will harm your nephew.”  
Bilbo shuddered.  
“All I have to do is speak into my walkie-talkie and they’ll break into his room and knock the boy senseless, leave him bloody and battered.” He pulled his walkie –talkie out of his pocket.  
People still use those? Bilbo asked himself, but then got back to the more concerning issue.  
“What makes you think that I’ll work for you if you harm my nephew?”  
“We will beat you into submission. It’d be better for you if you just said yes now, and then we could discuss what we need from you and your paycheck.” There was a gleam in his eyes. “I could have them drag Frodo to me and beat him myself.”  
The former confidence Bilbo had had was gone. He could tell by the look in Thorin’s eyes that he wasn’t kidding, and he’d sworn when the boy’s parents had died that he’d protect the little boy. This was a way of protecting him.  
“Fine,” he said, “you win.”  
“I knew you’d see things our way.” He tore off his boots and threw them across the room, then sat on the edge of Bilbo’s bed, pulling him down with him. Only then did Bilbo realize just how much smaller he was than the man.  
“Is this necessary?” he asked, trying to shake free from the man’s grip.  
“Let’s begin our discussion,” Thorin said, ignoring what Bilbo had just said. “Your job will be to hack into an enemy of ours computer network, erase any and all of his files, and deplete his bank account, transferring all of his money to us.”  
“And when I am finished of that job? Will I be allowed to leave?”  
“I originally thought so, but I can’t just give up one of the most famous computer hackers around.” He cleared his throat. “Whenever your services are needed is when we will use you. I can give you no guarantee of when we will need you, but I am guessing that it will be often. Now, are you working for anyone else?”  
“Only myself.”  
“Now answer my question, Bilbo; what made you become a hacker?”  
“It started as a simple hobby to see if I could actually do it and slowly it evolved into a game. It’s all a game to me, and I’m always the winner. It fills me with a rush of victory, a sort of high you could say. I just love the feel of discovering I hacked into another person’s bank account and now have access to all of their money. Whenever I try to gain personal information I am gleeful when I can find out secrets about things they might not want others to know.”  
“Are you determined?”  
“The joy is what keeps me working,” he said, “that and the money.”  
“Any other reason?” Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Be completely honest.”  
“Well, I began dealing with groups like you after Frodo’s parents died and it became even more important to me to be a hacker.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“His parents died because a group messed with their boat, which caused it to crash and kill them both.”  
“Oh, I am sorry.” He did sound completely, truly sympathetic. “I have nephews of my own, and as headache inducing as they can be sometimes, I do love them. Who was the group that killed them?”  
“The Trentons,” Bilbo said.  
Thorin’s jaw dropped. “One day they were just wiped off of the map. You were the one who ended them?”  
Bilbo laughed. “Do you underestimate me?”  
“No.” He smiled, then pulled something out of his pocket, a gold ring, which he gently placed on Bilbo’s finger.  
“What’s the ring for?” Bilbo asked.  
“This isn’t what it looks like. I am not asking you to marry me. I’d rather take it slow.” He chuckled at his joke. “You are now a member of the line of Durin.”  
“The line of Durin?”  
“You are now regarded as in my family and gain all the rights of it. The privileges also pass onto your young nephew, though I won’t be handing him a ring. Even very members of my group are a part of this.”  
“It still sounds like you want me to marry you.”  
Thorin stood up, bringing Bilbo up with him. “It’ll be a good cover story.”  
“Yes,” Bilbo said, looking down at it. He reminded himself that if wearing this protected Frodo then he was fine.  
“Now what are your conditions for working with us?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“In return would you like anything special? Doughnuts every Friday morning? A certain type of coffee carried at the office? A person to be killed while the killer is never found? Since I won’t be forcing you to comply with us then I am required to ask you of anything you wish in return for your service.”  
“Two things,” he said. “I want a new laptop.”  
“That will be easy enough to get.”  
“Good.” He took in a deep breath, then exhaled after a few moments. “I want protection of Frodo. He will not get into this, there will be no signs of us doing anything illegal, and you will not use him as a pawn to get what you want ever again. I demand respect for him, as I promised at his parent’s funeral to protect him from any possible harm. If any harm does come to him by your men than I will destroy any progress that you have made, then take the boy and leave to where you cannot find me while I turn the both of us into whole new people.”  
“Deal. Your nephew will not lose a single hair on his head, or feet.” Thorin looked down at Bilbo’s own feet. “How does hair grow there?”  
Bilbo rolled his eyes. “It’s a genetic mutation that runs in the family. It can be classified as a health condition, but it causes no actual harm to us. I used to be ashamed of it, but then I embraced it and decided to let the hair grow out. The boy followed suit.”  
“Sorry that I asked.” He led Bilbo towards the door. “Let’s go back to my men and let them know that they have a new business partner.”  
Inside the kitchen, everyone was silent as they ate. They all looked with faces of horror when Bilbo walked in with Thorin next to him, his hand on his back. Their eyes then widened when they saw the ring on his finger.  
“Hello,” Bilbo said. “I’m glad to see that you respected my wishes of keeping quiet. Has my nephew left his room?”  
One of the Thorin’s men, one with a braided mustache wearing a floppy-eared grey hat that contrasted with his suit, shook his head. “The boy hasn’t made a peep.”  
“Good,” he said. “If any of you harm him than I will force you into the streets.”  
Every single one of them either nodded or had a flash of recognition cross their face.  
“Now,” he said, “finish what you are eating and put the dishes in the dishwasher for me, would you? I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”  
“Yes,” one of Thorin’s men said. “We will do that.”  
“Then go home.”  
Once Bilbo was done speaking, Thorin pulled him into a corner and wrote down his cell phone number and the address of both his house and office on a piece of scrap notebook paper. He folded it up, then placed it in Bilbo’s palm before wrapping Bilbo’s fingers over it. “You are expected to arrive at my office tomorrow morning at ten in the morning. You are to dress up and look neat, and you are to get used to it. You will work every day from ten to three, with weekends and holidays off. Since you have very few hours then I may request you to stay overtime some days or to at least take some work home with you. If this bothers your schedule with your nephew then I will work some things out. Do you understand?”  
“Yes.”  
“Very well,” Thorin said. “I expect you to arrive tomorrow morning in my office at ten O’clock sharp.” A vein in his neck stuck out. “I do not like to wait.”  
“Don’t worry,” Bilbo said. “I will be there.”  
“Good. I knew that I could count on you. Though you are the newest member, I am sure that you will be a rather good member. Do not disappoint me.”  
Bilbo scribbled down his own information, then placed it in Thorin’s hands, who smiled down at it. “How did you discover who I was?”  
“We have our ways,” Thorin said, putting the piece of paper in the breast pocket of his black cotton shirt.  
Frodo’s face flashed in Bilbo’s mind. He planned on lying and saying that he’d gotten a new job, something that wouldn’t worry the poor boy. He was only six and yet plagued by constant nightmares surrounding the death of his parents. He owed it to the boy to keep him safe from harm. A new job would probably just make him happy, as he was pretty curious about what his uncle Bilbo did other than writing. He certainly wasn’t done with his novel yet and he needed a way to earn money.  
“And if you would like anything else, just ask. I need all the help that I can to take down the red drake, and it would better you be content.”  
Bilbo did not ask who this red drake was, just nodded. He would worry about questions and who was who tomorrow. Now all that he wanted to do was get some shut eye.  
Thorin’s men really did clean up the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. They’d also cleaned up any messes that might have been on the table or floor. They all left at once, with Thorin staying behind to look over Bilbo with his ocean blue eyes one last time.  
“Remember, do not disappoint me,” he said.  
“I won’t.”  
When they were gone, Bilbo turned off the lights in the kitchen and walked to the room. Only then did he notice that he still had Thorin’s boots. His pitch black car had just driven away and he had no way to tell him of them being gone.  
Bilbo sighed, then took off his clothes. The night before ran through his mind.  
Look at what you got yourself into, Bilbo told himself. You’ll have quite a bit of explaining to do soon.  
He put the boots safely in the corner, then placed the paper Thorin had given him on his nightstand next to his flash drive. He collapsed on his bed, but just before his eyes closed did he again notice the ring on his finger. Clearly he must have been quite important to get to wear this. 

 

The next morning, Frodo questioned him. He looked happy when Bilbo said he got a new job. “Some kids at school said you were too lazy to get a job when I said you didn’t have one.”  
“Well they should mind their own business,” Bilbo said.  
“So that was why the men were here?”  
“Yes.”  
“Was there any other reason?”  
Bilbo froze. Could Frodo honestly know about what Bilbo was really doing? He didn’t want the poor boy mixed up in this. “What do you mean?”  
“Why are you wearing that ring? Are you getting married? Was it to that guy with the black beard? Why didn’t you say that you had a boyfriend? Is he nice? What’s his name? Can I meet him soon? How long have you known him? Can I come to the wedding? Is he going to be my new uncle? Will he be as good of an uncle as you?”  
Bilbo suddenly regretted his nephew being so curious, and even more for being so mature for his age. “I am not marrying anyone.”  
“Are you sure?” Frodo asked. “I want to know about him!”  
“What makes you think I’d marry him?”  
“He gave you a ring!”  
"And how do you know it's the black bearded one?" “Well who else would give it to you? Besides, he seems like you'd like him (Bilbo had to hide his shock at Frodo thinking Thorin would be his type).” He bounced up and down in his seat. “You deserve to marry someone and be happy, Uncle Bilbo! Like mommy and daddy were.” He suddenly frowned.  
Seeing the look on his face, Bilbo sighed. “Okay, I admit it, he asked me to marry him.” He could keep up the lie, Thorin had said it would be a good cover. “I was just too ashamed to admit it.”  
“Is he cool like you? Is he going to be my new uncle? When is the wedding?”  
“We will worry about all of that later,” Bilbo said. “And yes, I’m sure that he is cool, though nowhere near as cool as I am.”  
Frodo giggled. “How did you meet? Is he nice?”  
“Yes he is nice,” Bilbo said. “And please, enough with your questions. We met on business.” That technically wasn’t a lie. “Now please continue getting ready.”  
“Fine,” Frodo said. “Everyone at kindergarten’s gonna know that you’re getting married.”  
“You can tell everyone,” Bilbo said, “just make sure to get ready for school.”  
“Alright!” Frodo shot up from his seat. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and wash my face. I’ll get ready for school, Uncle Bilbo, I promise!”  
Bilbo smiled, then walked up and ruffled his nephew’s hair, which made him giggle even more. “I’ll hold you to that.” He patted his nephew’s back. “Now run along.”  
Frodo ran off, yelling about how he wanted to meet his new uncle.  
Dear Eru Iluvatar, thought Bilbo. He put his hand to his forehead, feeling a migraine forming. What have I gotten myself into now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA everyone except Bilbo and Thorin think that they're actually in a relationship. I'm not sorry.

“You’re right on time,” Thorin said, cocking his thumb at the wall right as Bilbo walked inside of his office. The clock struck ten. “I’m thoroughly impressed.” He smiled. “And you dressed to impress as well.”  
Bilbo looked down at an old suit of his father’s. He’d gotten it out of storage because it was nicer than the ones he owned, and he’d even tried to make sure his hair wasn’t a mess when he left the house. He actually hadn’t known how that had turned out, but Thorin seemed fine with it. He let out a sigh of relief. Bilbo said nothing, just quickly sat down on the chair in front of Thorin’s large mahogany desk. “Okay, what would you like to discuss with me?”  
“Eager to work, eh?” Thorin smiled. “Well I have quite a bit of work for you to do.” He pulled something out from under his desk, a large cardboard box, then handed it to Bilbo. “I took the liberty of getting you the new laptop you requested, a newer version of the one I saw in your room.”  
“Thank you very much,” Bilbo said, then placed the box down by his chair. “What model? They’ve released multiple this year.”  
Thorin froze. “I took the one with the most good reviews on Amazon.”  
Bilbo burst out laughing, the sound echoing around the room, but stopped when he saw the concern on Thorin’s (his new boss’s?) face. “No, no, I’m sure it will be fine. I just didn’t expect that of all things to be your answer.”  
“I’m not the most techno savvy. I know the basics to keep things working but I’m sure I’ve got nothing on you.”  
Bilbo smirked. “I’m sure you’re correct.”  
He laughed, then clasped his hands together. “Okay, I need to discuss what really matters right now with you.” He inhaled, then exhaled. “Now should be the time to tell you about Smaug.”  
“Smaug?” Bilbo had never heard the name before.  
“The fire drake,” Thorin clarified. “Smaug is his real name.”  
“What connection do you two have?”  
“Verizon Wireless. On the serious side, he robbed us.” He frowned. “He didn’t do it like you did.” Thorin stopped, then looked straight into Bilbo’s eyes. “You put our money back, right?”  
“Yes,” Bilbo said. “I did so as long as you keep my terms and no harm comes to my nephew.”  
“And of course, none will. We may be considered criminals by the law, but we are not low enough to hurt an innocent boy with no reason to.” He looked away from Bilbo, towards the wall, as if somehow it would tell him what words to say. An uncomfortable silence filed the room and Bilbo was getting more and more nervous by the second. He could almost hear the clock ticking away. Had he done something wrong to upset Thorin? “We used to be as rich as we are now, but not by ‘criminal offenses’.” He snickered. “We aren’t criminals, I assure you. Money’s a game and you just have to learn how to play well and try to win, and on the way snag a few extra goodies like a get out of jail free card and a bonus five hundred. You said hacking was a game to you, a sort of high without the actual drugs, and the same could be said about the business you are now in. I used to be the heir of one the largest jewelry chains in existence. Smaug walked in, found some legal loopholes, and took the place for himself. Everything went to hell from there. The workers’ pay was lowered, they had less rights, and there are probably tons of problems between it now and the union. I wish to get Erebor Sons and Co. back, and you can help me with that.”  
“So all you want me to do is take all his cash and transfer it to you?”  
“Yes. I’m sure that this is something you are capable of.”  
“I’ll do it,” Bilbo said, “but I will need one week.”  
“Why one week?”  
Bilbo smirked. “I like to get to know my enemy first. You could say I go undercover, do a little research. It may sound like a waste of time, but it makes things easier.”  
“It’s perfectly fine with me so long as you get me the money and try to keep it within the seven day limit you have placed on yourself. I’ve been waiting years to get it back and now I finally have the chance.”  
“May I ask you one last question?”  
“Yes, anything, anything!”  
Bilbo was suddenly shocked by how he acted. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted the place back. “How did you find out that I was Therefore Anonymous?”  
“It’s kind of a funny story.”  
“Tell me.”  
“Well, a younger worker of ours, Ori, was at a Starbucks ordering a cappuccino. He noticed you typing away on your laptop in the corner. He couldn’t see what you were doing, but he was interested. When he wants to know something he’ll find it out. He snuck as close to you as possible while not revealing that he watching you. He saw you were using a program that is commonly used by computer programmers, but you were instead using it to hack.”  
“How would he know?”  
“He has a few friends at his college who are into that kind of stuff. If he’d hung out with the band geeks then he would have no idea that you were doing anything wrong.”  
Bilbo sighed. “My cover got blown by a college student. But no one’s found me before and others have probably snooped on me while I’ve worked, so why did he of all people get me found?”  
Thorin smirked. “Maybe it was just an unlucky coincidence for you. You should just be thankful that it didn’t happen and you were working for someone who wasn’t as kind as I am.”  
“I guess I’ll just have to be more careful.”

 

Bilbo took a sip of his coffee. Next to him sat the man from last night, the one with the hat. He smiled at him.  
“So, what do you think of the office?”  
“I’m developing claustrophobia.”  
The man laughed, then clapped Bilbo on the back. “You’ll learn to get used to it. We all did.” He smiled. “My name’s Bofur.”  
“Bilbo,” he replied, “though I’m fairly sure that you already knew that.”  
“Sorry if you felt intimidated last night,” Bofur said, relaxing in his chair. “But what you did to us last night nearly scared us all half to death.” He chuckled. “That’s quite impressive. Welcome to the team.”  
Daily work in the office proved to be incredibly boring. It consisted of sipping on terrible coffee that, unlike what the packaging said, did not taste like hazelnuts, or anything near it. Bilbo now knew why Ori went to Starbucks. All around the office you could hear the sound of phone calls that had been had before and would be had again. Everyone dressed in suits, but instead of making them look professional it made them look boring, save Bofur who looked goofy with the hat on his head.  
Bofur, who despite looking out of place with his hat, was a very nice fellow who helped show him around, introducing him to his grey-bearded cousin, who he explained couldn’t speak English. Bilbo didn’t question why, not wanting to appear rude. Next he met Bombur, a rather fat but kind man, who was Bofur’s brother. The two looked nothing alike.  
“He gets his looks from our mother,” Bofur said. “I got my father’s genes, along with all the good looks that came with it.”  
“And yet I’m the man with the partner,” Bombur replied.  
Bofur flushed red in embarrassment. “I just haven’t met the right one yet. When I do they’ll be falling over their feet and unable to resist this charm.”  
Bilbo didn’t intrude on their conversation, just walked and tried to not look as though he were judging either of them. He looked down at his watch and knew he should be worrying about Smaug, but if Thorin insisted so strongly on Bilbo working for him than he would just have to face the fact that Bilbo wanted to know where he was working and who he was working alongside.  
“Who was that little boy from last night?” Bofur asked. “I thought you said something but I couldn’t hear it.”  
“My nephew,” Bilbo said, “Frodo. I’m his legal guardian now that his parents are gone.”  
“Oh,” Bofur said. He didn’t bring up the subject again, and Bilbo didn’t revive that conversation either. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and held it out to Bilbo.  
“No,” Bilbo said. “I have asthma.”  
Bofur quickly put it back in his pocket, then gave Bilbo a quick smile. “I can’t have you dying, can I? Besides, I promised Bombur that I’d try to quit.” He adjusted his hat. “So how long have you known Thorin? You seemed shocked when he came in last night, but I figured that you’d both planned this. Must have been a rather strange engagement, right?”  
“What?” Bilbo asked.  
He pointed to the ring that sat on Bilbo’s finger. “How long have you known him? Why did you two act as though you’d never met before?”  
“You have even more questions than Frodo.” Bilbo wished he had an aspirin.  
“Oh, I get it,” Bofur said, “neither of you wanted to admit what was going on out loud.”  
Oh, it’s about our fictional relationship, Bilbo thought.  
“So how are you doing with Smaug?” Bofur asked.  
“I’m just starting,” Bilbo said. “I have only a week to tear him down.”  
“Am I interrupting you?” Bofur looked back towards his office. “You know,” he stood up and began to slowly edge towards the door, “I should be going.”  
“No,” Bilbo said, holding his hand up in a gesture that asked for him to stop, “it’s fine. I honestly need a break from worrying about it. I’m leaving in an hour to start working.”  
“Leaving?”  
“I’m going to his headquarters to spy on his workers, try to get to know more about him and who he is. It may sound strange, and quite frankly useless, but I can assure you that I’ve done it before and it has made my job ten times easier. I’ll claim that I collect jewelry as a hobby, maybe add in a line about how it’s supposed to help me later on with my retirement. That really works up people and they treat you even better, try to get you to buy a few more things.”  
“Are you sure that you should go?” Bofur looked concerned. “Smaug is terrible.”  
“I’m sure he is,” Bilbo said, “but I’ve done this before.”  
“Alright,” Bofur said. “I really do need to be going now though.”  
“I won’t deny you from your boring day job any longer,” Bilbo said.  
Bofur laughed. “And I can’t deny you from yours.” He tipped his hat at him. “See you another time, Mister Baggins.”

 

“Thorin,” Bilbo said into his phone. He sat at a coffee shop a few blocks away from Smaug’s main headquarters. An empty cappuccino cup sat next to him. He’d drank it all in seconds, needing the energy, and now his hands still slightly shook.  
“What?” Thorin asked. “Did something come up? Do you need me to send you some men, have them bring along a few guns?”  
“No,” Bilbo said. He looked at his empty cup and considered buying a refill. “My work today won’t let me pick up Frodo.”  
“You need me to pick him up?” Thorin sounded annoyed.  
“You insisted that I work for you, so to make up for that you will pay the consequences of going and picking him up from his school.”  
“Can I send someone else?” He spoke with an annoyed tone, but there was no doubt in it that Frodo would get picked up.  
“You are not sending any of your hit men to go pick up my nephew from his school.”  
Thorin laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m only sending my nephews.”  
“Okay, fine.”  
“Is that all you need?”  
“Yes. I’m planning on seeing Smaug in a half an hour to have a meeting with him. I’ll pretend I give a rat’s ass about jewelry and claim that I collect it.”  
“Just call if you need help, or text.”  
“Alright.” Bilbo looked down at the ring on his finger, then took it off and placed it in his pocket. If there was a chance that Smaug might recognize it then he wouldn’t risk getting caught. It felt strange off of him, as if in only a few hours he’d gotten used to wearing it.  
The half hour passed by and soon Bilbo was sitting in Smaug’s office, the man’s dark beady eyes looking straight at him. Some windows were open in the office, letting in cool air. The walls were painted a warm tan color, with carpeting that was a few shades darker. Everything had a slight brown color to it, and it seemed the brown drake would have been a better name for Smaug. Modern art paintings hung on the wall, the colors far more vibrant than the actual office, and contrasting heavily with what they surrounded. His hair was short but layered, colored red, with darker streaks through it, though they looked to be natural. His skin was rather pale. He adjusted his side. “May I ask you something, Mister Boggins?”  
“Baggins,” Bilbo said. “It’s Baggins.”  
“Well, Mr. Baggins, I want to help you, I really do.” He clasped his hands together and sighed. “But I am busy.” He gave a weak smile. “Something came up.”  
“Oh,” Bilbo said.  
“I have some business to attend to with an old business partner.” He pulled something out of the front pocket of his dark grey suit, grabbed a pen that lay on his dark wooden desk, scribbled on it, and then handed it to Bilbo. “Which is why I am inviting you to The Olive Branch tomorrow afternoon free of charge.”  
“What?” Bilbo asked. Even with the money he made he wouldn’t step foot inside The Olive Branch. It had started as just a small restaurant made by some Italian immigrants in the city and then had slowly become the fanciest and most expensive restaurant around. The prices were said to even have given some of the richest around heart attacks once their bill came, the fifteen percent tip not added.  
“I really don’t like being so rude,” Smaug said, sounding completely genuine, “and I’m sure there are many things that you have to say, but I cannot meet with you today. Lunch will make up for it, right?” If Bilbo looked hard enough he could almost see the faintest outline of sweat near Smaug’s brow.  
Bilbo didn’t know what to say, but then finally made himself speak. “That is very kind of you. I promise to be there tomorrow at twelve as asked.”  
“Good.” He reached his hand across his desk. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Mister Baggins.”  
“The same for you,” Bilbo said, who then shook his hand. It was firm, but nothing like Thorin’s. “It was a shame that it ended so early but I can be a patient man when I need to be.”  
Smaug smiled. It really did look genuine. Eru Iluvatar, if Smaug could give him genuine smiles then surely he could fall for anything. Bilbo was glad he’d gotten lucky enough to only have to work with an idiot. Some people he spied on were far more wary of him.  
Bilbo wanted to try to find out who Smaug’s “business associate” was, but he knew it wasn’t possible. Instead, he politely left, then drove home. The car was completely silent, and at that time Bilbo felt it would be wrong to turn on the radio. What he saw after he got home was ten-no, at least a hundred-times worse than when he had learned that someone had discovered he was Therefore Anonymous.  
“What’s going on?” Bilbo asked, seeing that his usually spotless kitchen was an absolute mess. Flour was spilled on the floor alongside egg shells, and dirty dishes were stacked in the sink. The place looked like it was from Bilbo’s nightmares.  
“Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo yelled, flour in his dark hair and some brown stuff around his lips, then ran up to him and hugged him. He barely came up to Bilbo’s waist. “We made you cookies to congratulate you!”  
“What?”  
A light haired young man smiled. Thorin had mentioned his name as being named Fili, and the darker haired one as Kili. They both had happy grins on their faces and mischievous looks in their eyes.  
“We’re just so happy,” Kili said. He held up a tray to Bilbo, filled with chocolate chip cookies. “Go on, try one.”  
Bilbo picked one up and held it up, inspecting it. He took a small bite, then took time to go over the taste. “You couldn’t bake to save your life.”  
“They’re good,” Kili replied. He sounded hurt.  
“They are,” Bilbo said, “but you made them so haphazardly. Cooking is an art that takes time to master.”  
“We weren’t trying to make you a masterpiece,” Fili said.  
“Yeah,” Kili added. “We just wanted to congratulate you on marrying Uncle Thorin. He’s been really lonely, and it’s been years since I saw him even try to get a date, so when Kili and I heard the news we were ecstatic.”  
Not even his nephews know the truth, Bilbo thought. Shouldn’t Thorin have told them? He knew he couldn’t have told them the truth, not here in front of Frodo, and not when they looked so happy.  
“Then thank you for the cookies,” Bilbo said. “Now you two clean this place up immediately or else. Doing something nice for me does not make up for trashing my kitchen! If this place isn’t spotless within the next hour than I will have all of your ears pulled.”  
Frodo gasped. “Fili, Kili, Uncle Bilbo is the worst at ear pulling!” He ran to where the brooms were and began to sweep up some of the flour and egg shells.  
“Stop,” Bilbo said, taking the broom from him and handing it to Kili. “Your job is to get yourself in the shower and clean yourself up.”  
“What?” Frodo asked, stamping a hairy foot and balling his small fists. “That’s not fair!”  
“No, you need to do it.”  
“But I don’t want to!”  
“Get in the shower this instant; you’re as dirty as my floor! And you will wash everything, including your hair, even on your feet.”  
Frodo crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, but after a few minutes walked to the bathroom in defeat. The boy hated to be cleaned, though it seemed that could be said of almost all children. Once he was gone, Bilbo turned back to Thorin’s nephews.  
“Well don’t just stand there!” He threw his hands in the air, waving them around. “My kitchen is in utter chaos and you aren’t even moving! You better have it spotless and shining within the next hour or so help me Eru Iluvatar I’ll pull your ears so hard that you won’t have any once I’m done! If I’m merciful then you’ll be like that guy Oin from work who has to use those hearing aids.”  
The two paled, going whiter than milk, then immediately began to clean up. They worked quickly, but once they finished they checked for any spare flour that might still be on the floor. The looks of concern on their faces made Bilbo want to chuckle, but he restrained himself.  
“You still have the dishes,” Bilbo said, pointing to the large stack, “and the floor still isn’t sparkling.” He tapped it impatiently.  
The two boys sighed, their arms flopping at their sides. The mischievous look in their eyes had faded out entirely.  
“Now keep working,” Bilbo said. “Standing there won’t help you. If it did then my childhood would have been a bit easier.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets Smaug.

The Olive Branch looked like the dining hall of a deity from a Greek myth. Bilbo lived more than what could be called comfortably, but he never imagined being able to come here. All the hacking could make him afford it, but he wasn’t supposed to appear that rich. The waiters were dressed so finely that whatever suits Thorin wore made him look as if he were in every day casual wear. The smell of warm bread and wine ran throughout the restaurant. The people waiting on their food looked like they’d stepped out of magazines aimed at billionaires and had stocks in gold.  
“Who are you looking for?” asked the dark haired serving man, snapping Bilbo out of his amazement.  
“Oh,” Bilbo said, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I’m having lunch with Smaug.”  
“Ah,” the man said. “Follow me.” He gestured his hand, then turned around and began leading Bilbo to his table. There was very little lighting, most done by either weak light bulbs or candles. He wondered how everyone got around in such a dark place.  
The table where Smaug was sitting at was in the back, and uncomfortably small. Smaug smiled when he saw him. “You’re right on time,” he said, tapping his watch.  
“I’ve been told I always get to the places I need to be on the dot,” Bilbo said. He hoped he wasn’t underdressed-he had bought a new suit, a nicer one, but it still looked off from the place.  
“You look nice,” Smaug said, sounding genuine.  
“Thank you,” Bilbo said, “as do you as well.”  
“So,” Smaug said, “anything in particular that you would like to discuss?”  
“Well,” Bilbo said, hoping that Smaug couldn’t tell that he was sweating, “I brought a few things to show you.”  
Smaug raised an eyebrow. “You did?”  
Bilbo swallowed a lump in his throat. “Yes, I did.” He cutched the briefcase at his side, then put it on his lap and opened it. To go along with his act of being interested in jewelry, he brought the nicest of his mother’s old jewelry. He pulled a golden necklace out of it and held it up.  
Smaug’s eyes gleamed with what looked like lust. “Wh-where did you get that?”  
“It’s my mother’s,” Bilbo said. It was just a chain link necklace, nothing too special.  
“May I see it?” Smaug asked.  
Unsure of what else to do, Bilbo let Smaug take it.  
The lust in Smaug’s eyes grew. He held it in one hand and then the other, closely analyzing it. “By Iluvatar,” Smaug said. “The chain link design is so well made. It’s harder to pull off than it looks, and yet the person who did this looked like they did it like someone would tie their shoes or ride a bicycle. Where did your mother get it?”  
“I don’t know. Whenever she was alive she always had it around her neck.”  
“How much for it?” Smaug asked. He looked directly into Bilbo’s eyes. “Give me the price and I’ll hand it over.”  
Bilbo didn’t say anything.  
Smaug suddenly saddened. “Your mother, how did she die?”  
“I do not want to talk about it.”  
“If you do not wish to sell it then you may put it back.”  
“No, take it,” Bilbo said. “I’ll figure out a price later.” He didn’t want to think about his mother, to go through another second of grief. “The woman is dead and she’s not coming back.” He felt a headache beginning to form.  
“Oh,” Smaug said, “you are far too kind.”  
Bilbo closed his briefcase and put it down under the table, and when he came back up he did not look Smaug in the eyes. His eyes were caught on the necklace, looking at it as one would look at a person. It wasn’t healthy, but Bilbo had heard that though money couldn’t buy happiness, it could buy a few replacements. Maybe there was a reason Smaug desired jewelry so much, and using so it could give him all the more pleasure in robbing him dry.  
Bilbo opened the menu and began looking around. Nothing seemed too appetizing right now-his stomach suddenly couldn’t seem to handle food. To appear normal, he made a quick lie that he was only going to eat a small meal because he didn’t want to get too many calories at once.  
“Are you sure?” Smaug asked. “If this about me paying the bill, I’m fine with it.”  
Bilbo sighed. “If you insist.”  
The two soon ordered, Smaug and Bilbo deciding to split a mixed portion meal.  
“So,” Smaug said, “tell me more about yourself.”  
“I’m Bilbo Baggins,” he said. “I’ve been living as a bachelor ever since my parents died.”  
“Any romantic prospects?” Smaug asked, raising an eyebrow.  
Bilbo was glad he’d left the ring in his pocket. “Not that I’m aware of.” He gave a weak laugh, then took a sip of his wine. “Why are you asking?”  
“No reason,” Smaug said, taking a sip of his own wine. “You just don’t look like the type who would be single.”  
“Oh my,” Bilbo said, turning as red as his wine. “Thank you very much.” His eyes searched the room for a distraction. “Do you read often?”  
Smaug seemed surprised by the change in conversation, but smiled and nodded. “Why yes, I do, and quite often when possible. ”  
“Writing is a hobby of mine,” Bilbo said. “I’m hoping to one day be published.”  
“That’s fabulous!” Smaug said. “You really must send me a copy of your book when you are. What is your book about?”  
“Everything,” Bilbo said. “I’ve never been one to stick to just one genre. One book I’ve been working on for a while is a crime thriller.” That was a lie-if there was one genre he’d never do, it was that. He did enough crime already that he would more gladly write erotica of all things than interactions with the police.  
“Are you nearly done?”  
“I’m on the final draft and the writing is going well. I should be done in a few months.”  
“What will you think if it gets published?”  
“To be completely honest, I’ll be relieved. Finally my name will be on the market.”  
“Do you want to be a bestseller?”  
“Doesn’t everyone?”  
Smaug laughed. “How many books do you plan to publish?”  
“As many as I can spit out before I get dragged six feet under.”  
Smaug laughed even louder. “You have quite the way with words. I’m hoping you get a fair deal of time before you’re dead.”  
“I hope so as well.” He took another sip of wine. “So tell me about yourself.”  
“I’ve been a bachelor for a while now,” Smaug said. “It’s not that I don’t like relationships, it’s just that I don’t want to drag anyone into a relationship with me who isn’t prepared for it. Most of the people who tried to get in with me were after the money, and I threw them out once I knew exactly what they wanted. By Iluvatar, if I wanted to be a sugar daddy then I already would’ve hired someone.” He chuckled. “And others like my personality but get turned off by the money. They ended up giving long speeches about how it was either them or the job and I had to choose the job. I wasn’t just going to change my way of life for them.”  
“Don’t I know it?” Bilbo asked. “My aunt Lobelia once tried to set me up on a date with a woman she knew because she’d heard I had cash. They think I’ve got money coming out of my ears!”  
“And how’d you ditch the woman she set you up with?”  
“I actually felt bad for her. It was obvious Lobelia set her up for it, and she was quite nervous talking to me, so I took her out, had a few bottles of wine and some dinner with her, had some long conversations about what a bitch Lobelia was, then she went home. She even told me she already had someone else but she still did what Lobelia said.”  
“Sounds like a charming woman.”  
“Oh you wouldn’t believe it.”  
“I’ve had that nearly happen to me before, but I managed to weasel my way out of it. It sure made the person who wanted my cash angry, but I could care less about them.” He poured the two another glass of wine. “I’ve been this way ever since I managed to play my cards right.”  
“How?” Bilbo asked, realizing how great this could be. It could really get some answers out of the man, or the demon as Thorin thought of him as.  
“Some idiots thought they could run a company and I took it out of them in seconds,” he said. “By Iluvatar, you’d think they would know how to read a legal contract before signing it. It left them angry, but why should I care? It’s called reading the fine print.”  
“That’s amazing,” Bilbo said. “You really must have a way with business.”  
“It’s a fight to stay in the top.” Smaug gave Bilbo a toothy grin.  
“You don’t look like much of a fighter,” Bilbo said, and when Smaug looked angered, he added, “and that’s what makes you even better. You took something from right under a person’s nose and they didn’t even realize it. That’s pure genius.”  
“You flatter me.”  
“I only flatter those who deserve it.”  
Smaug smiled. “I like you.”  
I’m on his good side, Bilbo thought.  
“I like you as well,” Bilbo replied.  
Their food came, and the two split their meals. Bilbo could normally eat a good deal, but today he could barely fill a quarter of his plate. If his own nephew saw him like this then he’d wonder what was wrong with him, why he wasn’t eating more. He felt a hollowness inside him, a bitter sadness that couldn’t leave him.  
“Are you not feeling well?” Smaug asked, concern clearly in his voice.  
“Don’t worry,” Bilbo lied. “I’m not sick, just not much of an eater. I can’t gain too much weight, can I?”  
You’ve got to fake it until you make it, Bilbo told himself. He gave Smaug a toothy grin.  
“Thanks for the concern.” He tried to sound genuine.  
“No, feel free to eat. Life’s too short to not enjoy food, right? Believe me, it’s delicious.”  
“If you insist,” Bilbo said, then added some more food to his plate. He took a forkful of some pasta he couldn’t pronounce the name of, covered in a white sauce, then ate it. It was absolutely delicious. “Eru Iluvatar,” he said. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was delicious. I can’t believe that I ever doubted you. What was going on through my head?” It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but a new one had been added as well.  
Smaug chuckled. “I’m glad you’re seeing things my way, the right way, now.”  
The right way, Bilbo thought. Are you sure you really know what that way is?  
The two ate and talked some more, both going from business to casual. They sounded like age old friends rather than people who had only met a day before.

 

And that is how I ended up becoming friends with him, Bilbo thought. He’d called Thorin and said he was too sick to come to work, and Thorin had questioned him about it.  
“Let’s just say,” Bilbo said, “he made sure to get some wine into me.”  
“You better tell me everything tomorrow,” Thorin had growled.  
Bilbo was lying. He actually could handle the alcohol, but he couldn’t get over the fact that Smaug had thought they were friends, that they shared the same goals. Maybe it had to do with him questioning him about his life. But no matter what, Friday night he was going to The Olive Branch again. His life really had turned upside down.  
“My life feels like a bad movie,” Bilbo muttered as he lay in bed.  
Frodo was busy being babysit by Fili and Kili. Rather than objecting, he decided Frodo could stay at Thorin’s house with Thorin’s own nephews. If anything got broken there then the blame could easily be placed on the two boys and not Frodo himself.  
“Why is my life such a mess?” Bilbo asked himself. He began to rub his head. He wondered if any wrinkles were going to start to form. “Why can’t it be normal like it used to be? And why do I have to do all this shit just ensure Frodo’s safety?”

 

When he woke up the next morning, things seemed better. He got his car keys, changed his clothes, and then went to pick up Frodo. Surely Thorin had a guest room.  
“Hello,” Thorin said at the door. “You finally came to pick up your nephew, didn’t you?”  
“Yes,” Bilbo said.  
“He was quite a handful,” Thorin said, then opened the door to let him inside. “My nephews managed to keep the boy up until eleven last night and he’s out cold. It’s barely past six. Why don’t you come inside and wait a little? Waking him up now would probably just get him angry.”  
Bilbo didn’t object-this was his new boss. He walked inside, hung up his coat, and then placed his shoes down. Thorin’s house was quite large and new looking. Thorin led him to his kitchen, which was cleaner than Bilbo thought it would be.  
“Coffee?” Thorin offered.  
“Sounds good,” Bilbo said.  
As Thorin began to make it, Bilbo told him of what happened yesterday, skipping the part about how Smaug had seemed to think they each could relate to one another.  
“He thought I genuinely wanted to talk to him. Must be a lonely old bastard, eh?”  
Thorin laughed. “It’d serve him right if he is one. You’re a good actor.”  
“Why thank you. I’m quite used to it by now.”  
When the coffee finished, Thorin asked him what he’d like in it.  
“Just milk,” Bilbo said.  
Thorin poured in milk, then handed Bilbo the mug. “May I ask you something?”  
“Yes.” Bilbo took a sip of his warm coffee.  
“Are you sure this can only last a week? I’ve reconsidered everything, and though I know you are perfectly capable of doing this, if you cannot do it in a week’s time I understand. I realize if trying to pull this off in such a short time you could get yourself killed.”  
“I’ll try.” Bilbo’s stomach growled. “You got any food you’d mind sharing?”  
Thorin nodded. “The boy’s won’t care if someone steals their waffles, will they?”  
Bilbo laughed. “No, I hope not.”  
Thorin made them both chocolate chip waffles, then the two sat in silence, their earlier conversation gone, as if they’d never talked at all. It’s not that either didn’t want to talk, they just didn’t know what to say.  
“Frodo,” Thorin said, breaking the silence. “How did he react to his parent’s death?” Concern was in his eyes. “This isn’t too personal of a question is it?”  
“No, no, no.” Bilbo took another bite of his waffles. “It took a while for me to get him out of his shell, but overall he’s been better. The nightmares stopped, he no longer begs me to be safe. I don’t think that the boy thinks I’ll die anymore. Eru Iluvatar, he used to check on me every night just to see if I was alive.” Bilbo frowned. “I lost a lot of sleep comforting him every night, but in the end it was worth it. I did take the role as his guardian after all.”  
“It’s obvious you care about him.”  
“I need to. No one else would take him anyway, said they had enough kids, that he’d be a burden. I wasn’t going to let him get thrown in the foster care system.”  
“How did you learn a group harmed his parents?”  
“I decided to investigate. The boat, or whatever was left of it, was found with a small symbol cut messily on it. I’d seen it on graffiti before, and though the police spent a little time looking over it, they ultimately lost interest in it. Since they wouldn’t do anything about it, I took matters into my own hands.”  
They sat in silence longer.  
Bilbo decided to break the silence this time. “Am I doing the right thing? Or should I just have left the dead dogs buried? In doing this, getting into this life, am I only making his life worse?”  
“My opinion would be completely biased,” Thorin said. “I’ve been doing this, living this life almost all my life. To think I used to be a law abiding citizen.” He gave a weak laugh, but the look in his eyes was anything but happy. “I can’t tell you what to do for the boy. In the end it’s up to you.”

 

“Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo had said.  
“What?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. He sat up, trying to appear awake. It was the ninth night in a row he’d done this. He knew it must be hard for Frodo to get over what happened, but was asking for sleep a little too much to ask for? With all the work he’d been doing on investigating his parent’s deaths he hoped Frodo would at least find a way to not check on him for one night.  
But then again, Bilbo thought, his head swimming, what did you honestly expect?  
The boy stood at the far edge of his bed, his dark hair messier than usual. From the little Bilbo could see of him in the dark, his eyes appeared puffy, as if he’d been crying. “Okay,” he said, “you’re still alive. You’re not dead.” Tears began to fall down his face.  
“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked. He patted the spot next to him, and Frodo hopped up on the bed and snuggled in next to him. Bilbo wrapped his arm around him and pulled him in for a hug. It was strange suddenly having to be a parent, but he knew he had to do this, if only for Frodo to feel more comfortable. It was hard adjusting to the fact that his parents were dead, and that only a few weeks ago he’d gone home to their smiling faces. Bilbo remembered the shock of his own father’s death, and then his mother’s, who had been so full of health. It had sent him into his own shock.  
“I had a dream.”  
“A nightmare?”  
“Yeah, a nightmare.”  
“What happened in it?”  
“I can’t remember much, but you were drowning. I kept trying to help you, but you were so far away. You kept screaming for me to help you, but I couldn’t reach you. And I tried to scream, see if someone else could help you, but no one else was there. Uncle Bilbo, you were begging for me to help you. You said you were wet and cold and you needed air, you really, really needed air. And no matter what, I couldn’t do anything to help you. Then the dream ended with you being dead!” He had grabbed Bilbo’s shirt and cried into it. “You can’t be dead! I don’t what you dead!”  
Bilbo desperately wanted to say something, anything to comfort him, but he couldn’t. He just hugged the boy to his chest, rubbing his back and messy hair. Frodo kept crying, the sobs sounding like they’d been held inside of him for far too long.  
Bilbo wanted to tell him that he wasn’t dead, at least not yet, and that it was okay now, he was here. But what could he say later? Tomorrow he could get struck by a truck and there would be nothing he could do to prevent it.  
“Please don’t die.” Frodo squeezed his uncle’s chest. “Please, please, please don’t die.” More tears fell, making his nephew’s face red. He looked to be in pain, a pain that no medicine or doctor, no matter how many fancy degrees they had or how much money they were paid, could ever dream of fixing.  
I’ll try, Frodo, Bilbo thought. I’ll try.  
Bilbo couldn’t remember how long the two stayed that way together, perhaps only a half an hour or maybe a few hours, but when he woke up the next morning Frodo was still next to him, his hands clutched around his arm for dear life. He almost looked like a little boy that was going to drown, his arms wrapped around a life jacket.

**Author's Note:**

> Frodo has jumped on the Bagginshield bandwagon.
> 
> (I wanna draw pictures of him now wearing a Bagginshield T-shirt and holding those action figures they released for the movie.)
> 
> Please tell me in the comments what you think!


End file.
